


Enough...

by Angelicasdean



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anger, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Arthur is FED up, Arthur takes fall damage :/, Broken Bones, Chapter 2: Horseshoe Overlook (Red Dead Redemption 2), Charles being a saint and a blessing, Dialogue Heavy, Happy Ending, Hosea's Actual A+ Parenting, Hurt Arthur Morgan, Injury, John being...John, Regret, Venting gone wrong, as usual, dad hosea, i wrote this in like an hour and a half, like instantly, no one dies, oh no I hope I don't fall, oh noooo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2020-06-25 23:43:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19756162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angelicasdean/pseuds/Angelicasdean
Summary: Dutch loses his temper possibly at the worst place, and Arthur is the one to take the fall...Literally





	Enough...

**Author's Note:**

> This happened to me in camp while I was antagonizing Dutch and I laughed SO loud, but oh, poor Arthur...

Horseshoe Overlook was bringing back the spirits of the gang, with fresh air and warm breeze and no risk of frostbite. Everything seemed to go back to normal, even if Hosea and Dutch have been a bit dodgy with each other, one or the other usually apologizes or the argument gets forgotten. But this time, neither want to back down and even though Dutch admitted he did wrong on the boat but Hosea isn't ready to forget. This isn't just a failed robbery where the money is forgotten, this is two (if not four, Sean and Mac are still missing) dead gang members and no money or gold. This is the fury of ending up in the ice-cold mountain starved and chased with no hope in sight. Arthur himself finds that he isn't _just_ ready to let go, not yet, not until he gets some answers at least.

It's a sunny day, the skies are clear and most everyone is lazing about, even Charles had resided to sit by the campfire and listen to Javier strum his guitar. The mood doesn't switch as Arthur rides in, angry scowl unhidden and shoulders drawn tight. He's a man on a mission, which is why Grimshaw hadn't stopped him to pester about his hygiene. He stomps right up to where Dutch is smoking on the ledge, an entire argument scraping at his teeth to get out.

You see, earlier that day Arthur had gone to 'save' Micah from jail, under Dutch's command that is, if it were up to him the bastard would have swung earlier. What he didn't know was that he'd have to kill half the town just to get out. No, not half the town's _law_ , _half the town's_ _ _men__ , innocent men who just wanted to defend their homes and town. He's fairly sure Micah killed a woman too after he killed his so-called 'friend' and took back his guns.

If Arthur were a witch or wizard, the sunny sky would have had a rainstorm by now, thunder and all. But he isn't, so he deals with the sun as he taps Dutch on the shoulder, wipes at his face and scowls even more at the blood he finds on his cuff. Dutch turns with a disinterested look, which doesn't ease any of Arthur's anger as he starts to speak, "So, I went to get Micah," He tries to sound casual, but there's venom behind the name that could kill faster than a rattlesnake's.

"Did you, now?" Dutch puffs the cigar smoke away from Arthur's face, sighing when he finds that Arthur will not tread easy. He drops the cigar and stomps on it, turning his full attention to Arthur, whose face is one shade off of being a full tomato, "And what did he do to displease you, might I ask?"

"Oh, where do I begin, Dutch?" Arthur paces a few steps, pausing when he reaches the edge and then turning to Dutch. Dutch rolls his eyes, he had finally gotten Hosea to back off a bit, and now, here was Arthur yapping again about something that will surely fall under Dutch's faults. Because that seems to be the pattern nowadays.

"Just tell me, quickly,"

"He made me kill an entire __town__ _,_ Dutch!" Arthur all but glared, voice going quiet as the sentence continued, "Then, while I was off defending us both, the goddamn psycho goes and makes a social call, _While the entire town is shooting at us!_ " he rants, hands flying in the air in disbelief, "and then he kills a man and his wife, for his __stupid__ guns,"

"And what should I do about that?"

"What should you do?" There's utter disbelief in his voice, and Dutch wipes at his face tiredly, he's not in the mood to argue, "oh, I don't know, talk some damn sense into him?" Arthur raises an eyebrow, "look I know we aren't like we used to be, but killing women Dutch? We didn't stoop that low did we?"

"Look, Micah probably had some type of explanation, where is he anyway?" Dutch asks, trying to divert the conversation but Arthur frowns and crosses his arms.

"Off trying to find a job he can win you back with but that doesn't seem necessary, is it?" Arthur snarks, and Dutch steps closer threateningly, "What has happened to us, Dutch, huh?" Arthur whisper shouts, pointing an accusing finger at the older man, "first the whole ferry mess-"

"again with the goddamn ferry boat-" Dutch moans in dismay, he should have expected it to go back to that damned job, sometimes he feels he should've gotten shot just so he wouldn't have so many yapping people at his ear about it. He's not the goddamn reason the job failed.

"Yes! again with the boat, Dutch, we lost men back there, we lost the Callenders and we lost Jenny and we don't even __know__ where Sean is, this is a goddamn _mess_! And I ain't blaming you as much as I'm blaming Micah-"

"You always blame Micah!" Dutch argues, voice turning into a shout. That usually makes the younger man reconsider, but not this time, he must be really heated about this.

"Because it's his damn _fault_!" Arthur shouts back, and Dutch furrows his brows. "he went and slithered himself into your goddamn ear, god you all excited and we ended up losing people and all our money!"

"Oh so this is about the money, is it?" Dutch hisses and Arthur lets out a frustrated noise, one hand coming up to run through his hair. Dutch can feel the anger bouncing between them, and there is a possibility of name-calling soon, which hadn't happened in a good ten years.

"Not everything is about the money you-" Arthur cuts himself off, clenching his fists and glaring at Dutch, "You always saw reason, Dutch, why the hell did you turn dumb all of a sudden?"

 _Tha_ _t_ seems to be the spilling point. Dutch can be a lot of things, but dumb isn't one. And he doesn't appreciate the disregard Arthur has for their power difference, even is he views him as a brother or son of sorts, Arthur doesn't have the fluidity to call Dutch dumb so blatantly.

Or so loudly.

"That's enough!" Dutch growls, taking a few more steps and, on a whim, pushing Arthur away. On any other occasion, that would be fine. Hell, most their arguments ended with one or the other pushing each other as a sign that several lines had been cross, but this time, it isn’t because what Dutch had forgotten were two things.

Arthur can’t fly

They're on a cliff edge.

And he remembers as soon as he sees Arthur's eyes fill with horror as his boots skid on the rocks, spurs scraping as he loses balance and falls. Dutch, for what it's worth, can feel his heart plummet just as fast as Arthur, and he watches, frozen, as a startled scream rips out of Arthur's throat and then...a thud, the sound of tumbling rock and...silence.

Arthur doesn't move in the rocks below the cliff edge, it's a good ten to twenty feet fall, and Dutch sits, now on his knees, fingers curled around the cliff edge as he whispers swear words to himself.

Hosea is going to _kill_ him.

Jesus Christ, he might kill himself if he had killed Arthur so carelessly. He hadn't even intended to push him, just dismiss him, but of course, his brain being the shit storm it is had made him irrational and angry and put him in straight into combat mode. And now Arthur was at the bottom of a cliff, and Christ there's __blood__.

He didn't even register the wails around him till someone grabbed his shoulder, and the silence that had surrounded him disappears and all he could hear was "What the hell, Dutch!" from a lot of people, mainly John and Hosea, the latter of which is shaking him with a newfound strength. And to think the man is in his sixties.

Dutch doesn't even speak as Hosea lets him go, absolute anger making his eyes bright as he shoves Dutch aside, deeper into camp, and looks over the hedge. There's a moment of silence, where everyone is waiting, and the Hosea is off quickly like hellfire is at his heel. Dutch wants to follow, but Grimshaw pins him with a glare of her own, and he stands, dread creeping up his neck as Charles and John follow Hosea to their horses.

* * *

The first thing he registers is an intense amount of pain. Which, considering his past, should be normal by now. Arthur can barely count the number of times he'd gotten knocked out, fainted or blacked out and woke up with an ineffable amount of aching bones. But now, now is almost __too__ much pain, he can't even pinpoint a spot where he can say the pain is radiating from. His arms hurt, his spine feels like it twisted a knot around itself and __god__ , his head feels like someone had dropped half a dozen bricks on it. It pulls a groan out of him as he tries to open his eyes. If he's in this much pain, then something must have gone wrong. Was he in a gunfight? or maybe he fell off his horse again, maybe even got fist to fist with someone.

Nothing really comes up, none of those feel familiar to the pain. He was with Micah, he killed half a town, that he remembers, then-then he...

oh.

 _ _oh__.

The conversation slowly comes back to him, then the short shouting match and then...Dutch pushing him, and his feet slipping, and the sinking feeling of nothingness under his feet. He fell off a goddamn cliff, that's why he's so pained. Jesus, he didn't think things would ever go __that__ far between them. Sure, Dutch had been distant but this was damn well near killing him. He assumes he didn't succeed only because the amount of hurt he feels can't have possibly haunted him in death. Can it?

"Arthur?"

Yeah, he thinks he's pretty much alive. When he forces his eyes to open, staring at Hosea's face crowding him. "Yeah?" Arthur mumbles, hand complaining as he tries to bring it up to shade his eyes. Christ, he never thought the sun was this aggressive before.

"Keep still, alright? You're...just keep still," Hosea whispers, which is a blessing of its own, everything seemed to stab at his head mercilessly. He silently agrees, working on keeping his eyes open as Hosea fusses with something, "You broke your arm, that's why you can't, you know," He says and Arthur moves his head slowly so he'd be able to look. His arm is indeed cast, bandages wrapped tightly with two wooden pieces keeping it straight from the elbow down. "Here, drink some water, you lost blood while we were...yeah, come on," Hosea ushers, his hand slipping gently under Arthur's neck and helping him angle his head so the water cup wouldn't spill on him.

Water was surprisingly refreshing, felt cold against his tongue and blissful as it slid down his throat. It made him feel a great better, at least some tension in his shoulders eased as he relaxed back into his cot.

“Did...did anything else break?” He asks, hesitant, he hopes his arm is the only broken bone, anything else could leave lasting damage, after all, Bill never did walk the same after he twisted his ankle some...three years ago.

“Your leg, I’m afraid, and your skull, we think at least, fractured” There’s a sigh at the end of his words, filled with uncertainty, “we were going to move you to the doctor but you were bleeding and in no shape to load onto a horse, the wagons would’ve taken too long, so we...so we improvised,” He explains, casting an apologetic smile at Arthur, “You’ve only been out a day, we…we were going to move you if you didn’t wake up,”

“I’ll be fine,” Arthur says dismissively, even though he doesn’t feel like moving, he doubts any other position would make him feel any less pained. But nothing feels increasingly bad, just the steady thrum of broken bones and fractured skulls.

Nothing new.

“You-Christ, Arthur!” Hosea exclaims, lowering his voice when Arthur winced, “You fell off a goddamn cliff, no less, you got _pushed_ off a cliff!”

“And survived,” Arthur points out, “otherwise you’d probably be chewing Dutch out,”

“Oh, I already gave him several pieces of mind. How could he be so fucking _stupid_ and _careless_.” Hosea pinches the bridge of his nose, “And I’m still going to flay him, he almost goddamn killed you and he has the _audacity_ to think an _apology_ would be enough,”

“Sounds like Dutch to me,” Arthur mutters, and Hosea drops his gaze back on the younger man.

“What’ll you do...after you’re all well, I mean,” He asks, and Arthur is stumped to realize he has no idea. His first one was to just...deal with it, sure, he almost died and such, but he can’t exactly run off; he doesn’t remember how to live without the gang.

The second one that comes to mind is to do just that. Leave and don’t come back. Part of him thinks it’s selfish, part of him feels that it’s absolutely warranted. After all, he did almost die, and though he personally doesn’t value his life, it doesn’t mean he wants it taken away. Or at least, taken away by Dutch’s hands.

He probably didn’t mean it.

But It still happened.

“What do you mean?” He plays dumb instead, but Hosea sees right through it, staring at him patiently as Arthur sighs, “I’m not nearly... _well_ enough to think about this, Hosea,”

“Alright,” Hosea nods once, “You’re probably starving,” he says, and Arthur agrees, not that he thinks Hosea wouldn’t force-feed him anyway.

  


Several days later, and several attempts on Dutch’s side to see Arthur which get declined almost instantly by whoever is nearest, Arthur manages to sit up without blacking out. The first time he tried, he used his broken arm to support him and that went as well as anyone would think, then the second time, he accidentally hit his head on the wagon’s wall and subsequently knocked himself out, the third time Tilly had forced him to stop by pinning him down and finally, on the fourth one, his broken leg slipped off the cot and he made an embarrassing scene when the wooden piece shifted along his broken bones.

But today was successful, and he’d been getting better with eating with his left hand. His head still hurt like hell whenever someone speaks above a whisper, and he had to wear his hat almost daily and keep his tent shut so he wouldn't suffer through migraines 24/7 John had surprisingly been helpful, usually helping him get up and around, he leaves him to do his business, unlike Hosea who insisted there is no shame in helping a man stand while he’s taking a piss. John had a little bit more understanding of the privacy Arthur wanted.

John also shares with him the news of what's happening around camp, apparently, Trelawney slithered his way into Blackwater and found out where Sean was, and in a few days, John, Charles, and Javier would set out to scout and bring the Irish bastard back. It seemed that John had finally stopped playing the sick maiden role (transferred it onto Arthur, he had said sarcastically. Arthur threw his pillow at him and instantly regretted it.) and gone out to work.

As the days went by, and Arthur grew more tolerant of the pain, Hosea got less and less fretful about his head and the possibilities of his brain had taken more damage than they realized.

It’s almost a week later that Hosea finally deems Arthur well enough to get into a wagon and go to a doctor to get a proper cast and diagnosis. Charles had helped transfer him, and on his way, Arthur only caught a glimpse of Dutch. He looked fairly normal, except for the slight frown he was wearing and the sad look he had in his eyes. Arthur bid it no thought, because the next thing he knew, he was being lifted off the ground by John and Charles and put on the wagon unceremoniously. Thankfully, Grimshaw had padded it and placed a folded blanket so he’d be able to alleviate his leg and not go through the pain of trying to keep his leg still while the wagon rocked.

If Arthur were forced to be honest, the party that had followed them was too big. Grimshaw and Hosea would’ve been enough, but John and Javier followed, and Charles tried but Grimshaw forced him to go do something else except working himself to death. They’d all shown an unnatural amount of care and gentleness around him, it’d been years since John had looked at him with anything but dismay, and years since they’d had a conversation that didn’t end with insults thrown at each other.

The drive to Valentine was peaceful, and the doctor had officially announced he has a concussion and proceeded to wrap his head in a bandage and restitched a part of it. He hadn’t even realized they had to stitch his head but no reason to dwell. His leg was, by the doctor's words, healing slowly, and the amount of swelling will increase before it starts to decrease. Both right arm and left leg were removed of their bandages then cast in thicker looking ones, and the doctor had insisted he put no pressure on it for at least 3 hours while it set and put as little pressure as possible for the next two months. The realization that he’d be cast for several months dampened his mood, but Hosea insisted he sees it as a long vacation and a chance to figure out what he’s going to do.

He hadn’t told him he can’t make up his mind.

The prospect of leaving the gang was heart-aching, whatever Dutch had done, the rest of the gang had no hand in it. He doesn’t want to leave Hosea, or John, or Charles or anyone, actually. He didn’t even feel angry at Dutch, but he wasn’t completely comfortable with forgiving him yet. Hosea seems to vote that he _never_ forgives him, but Arthur doesn’t think he has it in him.

On the third day after the visit to the doctor, Arthur manages to hobble his way out of the tent without Hosea, Grimshaw, Tilly or anyone else catching him and forcing him to go back to bed. He was feeling much better, with his arm numb from the pain killers and his leg only aching slightly as he hops and drags his foot towards the campfire.

It seems that amidst his planning to escape the tent, he had forgotten that Dutch would be around when he _does_. And it jumps back into his mind a moment too late, because as he contemplates going back, Dutch sits on his left, on the ground, surprisingly enough. Arthur acts like he hadn’t noticed, childish as it is, he isn’t ready to face Dutch and whatever he has to say. Not yet, maybe not for a long time.

He had almost died, by Hosea’s words. Because he cracked his skull and broke two of his limbs and it was only luck that nothing else but bruising around his ribs and stomach had happened. And he might have not felt it until later, but he didn’t necessarily want to die. Not yet, not _now_. Sure, he’s not as young as John, but he’s also not as old as Hosea, and he thinks he wants to see how life goes.

He at least wants to see the new century.

“Arthur,” Dutch is first to speak, and his voice is soft enough that Arthur forces his eyes away from the campfire and slowly turns to look at the man who he held so high. Between Hosea and Dutch, he thinks he sees Hosea more as a father, but Dutch...Dutch is still important to him, Dutch is his teacher and his savior of sorts. Dutch is the one who found him, taught him how to shoot, how to read (although Evelin Miller was a bit too harsh of a starting point, now that he thinks about it).

It’s almost ironic that he’s the one that almost killed him.

“I’m sorry, I-I truly am, Arthur,” It’s almost a beg, but not quite there. His voice is a whisper and his eyes are wide with vulnerability. It doesn’t suit him, Arthur decides, “If-if I was the reason you died, you don’t understand how devastating that would be. If you died...I don’t know what I’ll do with myself,

I wasn’t thinking, and I wasn’t entirely in my mind. I was stressed but that isn’t an excuse for what I did, and if I could, I would replace myself with you, if I can change the times, I _would_ ,” Gently, Dutch grabs one of his hands, cradling it into both of his. Arthur looks away with a sigh, disappointed in himself for forgiving him so easily.

At the back of his mind, a voice whispers that maybe he had forgiven him long ago and just couldn’t accept it.

Dutch goes on.

“I didn’t want to be critiqued, and I was too in my head and healing my bruised ego to listen to you. You and Hosea, that is, and everyone that tried to talk sense and I couldn’t see past the reward of my plans. You were right, you and Hosea, all along. And I should have listened to you sooner, and I should have been a better leader, and you’re right, It’s my fault Davey and Jenny are dead. It’s all on me, and I promise, that from now on I’ll try to listen as best as I can. I won’t ignore your complaints.

I know I don’t deserve to be forgiven, Arthur, and I know what I did was horrible. But I just want you to know, that no matter what you decide, no matter what your next step is, there will always be a place for you here.” And with that, Dutch pushes himself to his knees, letting go of Arthur’s hand as he begins his retreat towards his tent, probably.

Dutch thinks Arthur will leave. Even though Hosea is supporting him about the idea, Arthur doesn’t think he is emotionally capable of it. Every time he thinks maybe, just maybe, he’ll be able to, he sees Tilly and Jack playing together, or Karen and Grimshaw snipping at each other and remember that all his life had been here. Whenever Bill and Javier end up fighting, or when John and Hosea laugh together around the campfire, he remembers all the memories he shares with them. He had promised, once, a long long time ago, when Hosea had left for a little while and he was still a young man, that he would never leave Dutch’s side. For better or for worse, they’d see the end of the line together. And Dutch made a mistake, sure, a big one, but Dutch seems sincere about his apology, and Arthur is still breathing, and he’s _healing._ It seems stupid for him to keep a grudge.

So without thinking, Arthur reaches for Dutch’s vest, stopping him in his place and forcing him to turn towards him. “I ain’t leaving,” he promises, “and I ain’t mad neither,”

“I wouldn’t-”

“I know, I know,” Arthur sighs, “I wished you would come to your resolution at less of a price, but we reached it anyway, and I-I’m still alive,” he gestures towards himself, “And I’ll heal, and we can still fix what broke, and I’m glad you’re going to hear us out.” Dutch nods and Arthur gives him a reassuring smile, “You won’t rid of me that easy, Van Der Linde”

It seems to take the edge off of Dutch, and his face brightens several shades as he grins down at the younger man. Arthur lets his arms fall, just as Dutch circles to sit beside him, “I wouldn't dream of it,” He replies, and Arthur rolls his eyes as Dutch throws a log into the fire.

  


It’s three months later when Arthur takes off his casts, and those three months had been boring on one side but full of developments. Hosea wasn’t happy with how fast Arthur had forgiven Dutch, but after several surprising announcements from the leader, Hosea had finally caved and mellowed out. One of the surprising announcements was that Micah was no longer welcomed into the gang, after taking an (again, surprising) vote, it seemed the majority didn’t want him. Then two days later, Sean was dragged back into camp by Javier, John, and Charles, and the Irishman had come with his, missing a few teeth but still as ready to drink his liver away.

Then they narrowly escaped Cornwall, and Arthur met two Pinkerton agents while he and Dutch were out fishing, they told them they had killed Mac and offered to let the rest of the gang go if Dutch hands himself in.

They ended up dead and dragged a few miles away from camp. 

Arthur and John started to reconnect, with Arthur being the first to apologize about the crack he’d caused between them. It wasn’t easy, but as weeks turned into a month, Arthur found himself back to how he and John were before he left. back to annoying him with no malice and throwing jokes back and forth together.

They also moved to another state, Lemoyne, which according to John, Charles and Hosea, is filled with bigoted, no-good-but-rich men, and they slid right into a family feud that Hosea and Dutch thought was filled with gold.

They didn’t find any gold, instead, they almost got Sean’s head blown off, but Charles had spotted the sniper before John or Bill and saved the day. Jack was almost kidnapped, but Arthur and Tilly were around and they took down the three men that had tried to lure the boy away and hurried back to camp, where Dutch and Hosea decided that the two families had taken it too far and lead an attack on both Braithwaite and Grey mansions. Surprisingly, they came back victorious and satisfied. The only regret he has is that he hadn't joined them, on account of him still having a cast.

It was around that time that Arthur took off his cast that they had to move deeper into Lemoyne, and the first task Arthur was given was to help Lenny empty a mansion he’d found which was a promising campsite.

He had missed riding a horse sorely and was glad for the ride Lenny took (and he had a feeling they took the scenic route because Arthur could swear the maps had another route that was ten minutes shorter. What Arthur hadn’t anticipated was how weak his arm had gotten, and how wobbly he was on his feet. But his aim got better as he kept shooting, and Lenny was good enough of a shot that they both came out alive, with a new wagon and new guns to distribute or sell.

And, of course, a new campsite.

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted this to be angsty but I decided we have enough of that in cannon, so, here is how I gave no fucks about the mission aliment and made everyone happy and alive. 
> 
> Also, I wanted to write a few more one-shots, so if you have suggestions or requests you can dm me on Tumblr (@angelicasdean) or comment here!


End file.
